Broadway Goes to Hollywood: The Musical
by Merlin Missy
Summary: A rewrite of the TGC episode.


Broadway Goes to Hollywood  
A Gargoyles story  
by Merlin Missy

Copyright 1997,1998, 2001  
TV-Y7

Disney and Buena Vista own the characters, situations, and even the  
plot of this story. However, I'll lay odds they never thought of  
_this_. My most sincere and heartfelt apologies go to Cary Bates.  
I really did enjoy the original episode, as much as any TGC ep.

I'd like to dedicate this to the voice actors of "Gargoyles," who  
made our beloved characters come alive. Michael, Brynne and Greg  
gave them life, and gave us stories in which to believe; you gave  
them depth, and made those stories a part of us all.

Special thanks to Batya Levin, for reasons stated at the end.

VVVVV  
Teaser

The room was dark. The windows had been draped in black  
curtains to cut out even the low glare of the city below and the  
stars above them, and there were no torches either electrical or  
chemical to bite back the absolute night. Until ...

A single lamp attached to the ceiling made a faint _**crackle-  
snap**_ as it caught life, and continued to hum just beyond human  
hearing range. A circle of light caught onto another set of  
drapes, these not covering any window.

Owen stepped out from the curtain, a piece of paper clasped in  
his good hand. He stared down at it, adjusted his spectacles so as  
to see it better, and opened his mouth to speak. His eyes widened,  
and he said to the curtain in an agitated whisper, "You _can't_  
expect me to read this!"

A muffled response was his only reply, a response that sounded  
very much like David Xanatos saying, "Read it!"

Owen turned back to the piece of paper, curled his mouth just  
enough to let anyone interested know he was less than pleased with  
events, and read aloud:

"The Goliath Chronicles premiered on September 7, 1996 on  
ABC." He added under his breath: "Why we didn't keep it in Pack  
Media Studios is beyond me." The curtain poked him, and he turned  
his attention back to the paper. "After a rather good episode  
under series creator Greg Weisman, the show suffered from a lack of  
direction. Although the writing staff tried to continue the  
quality of the series, Standards and Practices at ABC, as well as  
executive decisions from the Walt Disney Company, turned what was  
once an excellent series into an unfortunate one." He stopped and  
addressed the curtain again: "They know this already!"

He received another reply from the darkness beyond, and again  
returned to his reading. "One group of fanfic writers, heartbroken  
at the turn the series had taken, took it upon themselves to  
rewrite the third season.

"The production you are about to read is the effort of one of  
those writers to turn an episode of the series into something a bit  
more palatable. The episode in question was among the least  
offensive, and the author, having spent far too much time in the  
minds of the villains ... "

A distinct "Hey!" could be heard from behind the curtain, as  
if from two voices. Owen poked the curtain back. " ... decided a  
serious take on the episode would be a bad idea." He narrowed his  
eyes and muttered, "This woman's ego must be the size of several  
Midwestern states!" The curtain moved yet again, and only a  
fortuitous step forward saved him from being swatted.

"Without further ado, then, we would like to present for your  
viewing pleasure, 'Broadway Goes to Hollywood.'" He frowned,  
looking even less pleased, as he added, "'The Musical.'"

He bowed his head once, then stepped back inside the curtain.  
Thirty seconds later, his voice came from behind:

"What do you mean that's my only speaking part?"

VVVVV  
Act 1: Scene 1

The limo was rocking. She and David had made it rock a few  
times on their own (and with the tips they gave the new chauffeur,  
he'd better not say anything about how often!) but this was  
different.

"The neighbours are restless tonight," David observed.

"We can't even go out anymore without being harassed," she  
said, shaking in her seat. When they tested the shocks on the car,  
rarely was there an angry mob outside watching.

"The rumours about our ties to the gargoyles have certainly  
made our lives more difficult," he replied. Although, she thought  
to herself as she nearly fell into David's lap, this could prove  
interesting ...

"But still, things could be worse," said David. He didn't seem to  
object to her new positioning, either. They shifted so as not to  
cause bodily injury, and looked out on the seething crowd  
pressed up against the windows.

"Imagine if it got out that Goliath and his clan are living  
above us," he added, clicking a few buttons

She blinked at him. "Don't tell me that line was actually in  
the script."

David shrugged, and when he finished typing in commands, he  
reached under the seat, pulling out a dog-eared spiral-bound book,  
with "Broadway Goes to Hollywood" printed in big friendly letters  
on the cover.

She barely noticed as jets of water extended themselves from  
the underbelly of the limo and sprayed the onlookers. The car  
righted itself and sped away while she flipped through the book.

"David, this is ridiculous."

"I know. Bigotry of whatever kind usually is."

"That's not what I meant. Have you read the rest of this?"

"Well," he admitted, "No. I only read my part. We used to do  
that all the time on TNG. I do know I get some pretty good lines  
in this one, though."

She read aloud: "'Wife, mother, one-woman vigilante squad.  
What a woman!'" She looked up at him. "Okay, so that's a good  
line, but really, this is ... " Proper words escaped her (although  
a few improper ones sprung immediately to mind).

He snorted. "You obviously haven't seen the script for 'To  
Serve Mankind' yet. In comparison, this one's Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare wrote an entire play around Oberon, Owen, and my  
mother."

"Good point. If you don't want to do the script, there's always that  
sitcom, you know, the one with the fashion magazine and David Spade."

She considered it.

The limo continued its journey, having left the demonstrators far  
behind. Fox stared out the window, lost in thought. Then she  
turned to her husband.

[Cue: "Part of Your World"]

"Look at this car!  
Look at these seats!  
Wouldn't you think our lives are complete?  
Wouldn't you think we're the pair,  
The pair who has everything?  
Look at our stocks!  
Look at our bonds!  
(Don't look too closely at our investments in Pond's)  
Driving around here you'd think,  
Sure, they have everything.  
We've got robots and 'copters aplenty,  
We've got scientists, mutants galore.  
You want gargoyle clones? We've got twenty!"

She broke off and looked around fearfully. Goliath was,  
fortunately, not nearby and had not heard her. She wondered  
what his reaction would have been.

"But who cares, no big deal.  
I want more.  
I want to be where no people are,  
I want them to leave,  
Want them to leave us to dancing,  
Strolling around on 42nd street.  
Dodging riots you don't get too far;  
Peace is required for world domination,  
Or taking over Canadian exports of wheat!  
Someone might talk about all the fun,  
Of lives never spent in the sun!  
We would be free if gargs could be  
Part of this world."

He took her hand into his, cool to hot, pale to dark, perfect  
contrast, perfect balance.

"My dear, your prince has come ... "

She pulled back. "David, get with the nineties. Cinderella  
is _so_ passe."

"Sorry. All I wanted was to tell you I'll do what I can to  
fix it."

"I know," she said, and gave his hand a squeeze. "But I think  
this time, I'm going to fix it."

She wouldn't elaborate, but as the limousine pulled up to the  
curb, she sang quietly to herself:

"I don't know when,  
I don't know how,  
But I know the plot is starting right now!  
Watch and you'll see,  
Gargoyles will be  
Part of this world!"

VVVVV  
Act 1: Scene 2

Broadway roared as the last bits of stone flew from his body  
to land where they would. He'd read that a penny dropped from the  
Empire State Building could kill a person on the street below; the  
Dragon only knew what a piece of stone skin could do when it fell  
from the Eyrie Building. Since there was noting he could do about  
it, he paid it no mind, instead looked around him until he spied  
the beautiful and cherished form of the love of his life.

"Good evening, Angela," he said, extending his hand shyly.  
She pressed her palm to his, offering a smile warmer than a sun  
could possibly be.

He saw Brooklyn's wince at the action, and sighed internally.  
He knew his rookery brother still had trouble adjusting to seeing  
them together. They tried to be discrete around him, around all of  
them, but the fact remained that Angela was the only female to  
three young unmated males, and for whatever blessed reason, she'd  
chosen him over the other two.

"What's on the agenda for tonight?" Lex asked Goliath with a  
glance to the others. He'd been out of the competition since  
they'd returned to the castle, but that hadn't kept him from trying  
to ease things between his rookery brothers. It didn't always  
work, but he did try.

Tonight was going to be one of the nights it didn't, Broadway  
figured, as Brooklyn dropped his eyes from Angela and put on his  
"I'm not going to think about this now" beak. That look had become  
more and more familiar, as Goliath and Elisa grew less reserved  
about their relationship, and he and Angela did the same. Having  
the Quarrymen behind every corner hadn't helped, either. His  
brother was feeling unloved and unwanted by human and gargoyle  
alike; his recent trip with Lex to Pennsylvania, while having shown  
them the possibilities of mates from other clans, had also  
emphasized the lack of them in this one.

There was more than just the presence or absence of female  
gargoyles. Brooklyn had decided he was in love with Angela,  
whether he'd said so publicly or not. Seeing them together  
couldn't be easy on him.

Then again, who'd said life as a gargoyle was easy?

Goliath seemed to take all this in a glance, and rumbled,  
"Tonight, we'll split up, patrol all the boroughs. Perhaps if we  
show strength throughout the city, it will help our cause."

He stared out into the city lights.

[Cue: "Maybe"]

"Maybe far away  
Or maybe real nearby,  
Somebody's stealing a Chrysler,  
Somebody's shooting drive-by.  
Maybe a housebreak  
On the other side of Queens  
Somebody needs reinforcements  
Being held up by some teens!  
Maybe they're young, maybe they're smart,  
In the Metropolitan Museum of Art  
Maybe they're good;  
The juries will see.  
Their one mistake is bothering me!  
So, maybe now it's time,  
And maybe when we're done,  
They'll be there calling us 'baby.'"

The rest of the clan stared at him. Goliath shrugged his  
mighty shoulders.

"Maybe."

It was an optimistic view Broadway longed to share, and he  
wondered if Goliath really believed what he'd said, or if he too  
was beginning to see how desperately the humans hated them.

Something needed to be done, but he didn't know what.

A figure moved from the shadows. Fox. She nodded hello to  
the clan, then said to him, "May I speak with you a moment,  
Broadway?"

"Sure," he said, not really sure at all. What did she want?

Goliath said, "We'll go ahead on patrol. When you're free,  
take the Park."

"Right."

Angela touched his arm, then placed her lips against his  
cheek, saying in a low voice, "Don't be too long. I'll be  
patrolling Times Square." In other words, if they timed their  
patrols right, they'd meet about once an hour.

"I'll be there," he said, and broke contact with her before  
Brooklyn took it too hard. He followed Fox inside. "What's this  
about?" he asked her, wondering if he could justify swinging by  
Times Square before he started really patrolling.

"I have a proposition for you."

"I'm listening." He still didn't completely trust Fox. Even  
if he could forget their first meeting with the Pack,  
Alexander's recent kidnaping made it all too clear where her  
loyalties lay.

[Cue: "Music of the Night"]

"Gargoyle haters  
Heighten public worry.  
Dark words stir  
Their fears into a fury.  
Let us then begin:  
You will never quite fit in  
Till the people see that gargoyles are okay;  
They'll listen to the judgment of L.A.  
Growing, learning,  
People will surround you,  
Eager fans will  
Gather in around you.  
Turn your hopes to me;  
I have friends who'll make them see,  
And with just one word, we'll both be on our way,  
To start to change the judgement of L.A.  
Close your eyes and remember all your fondest dreams  
Lit in images upon a silver screen!  
Close your eyes, think of all the things you've seen,  
And you'll be like a king!"

"With you the queen?" he asked skeptically.

"Would you rather have James Dean?"

"Slowly, gently,  
Tell me all your reasons.  
I've heard Fame's more  
Fleeting than the seasons."

"We'll open up their minds!  
Let their fears out to unwind,  
And then let them hear just what you've got to say.  
That's how we'll change the judgement of L.A."

He was beginning to see. Yes, going to Los Angeles would be  
a perfect way to break ice with the humans. If they saw him on  
national tv, they wouldn't be afraid anymore of their fears in the  
dark.

"We'll take their minds on a journey  
To a strange new world,  
Where the humans and gargoyles live in peace!  
Show them how we can bring this to an end,  
Only then can we all live here as friends!  
I'll hit L.A. like a blue tornado!"

"You'll be bigger  
Then even that guy Kato!"

They continued as one:

"So let this thing begin,  
We'll make them let us fit in,  
With the power of a well-planned Q&A,  
And fix the all-great judgement of L.A."

She added:

"Together, we'll show this world the way.  
Help me change the judgement of L.A."  
Fox held out her hand. "Are you with me?"

"Of course I'm with you." He took her hand, and shook it.

She smiled up at him. "You'd better go pack. The 'copter  
will be here in an hour to pick us up."

He nodded and trundled out of the room; he'd also have to  
write a note to Goliath and the rest so they wouldn't worry. He  
thought momentarily about Angela. She'd probably be upset that he  
hadn't asked her about it. Maybe he should stay, tell her himself,  
he thought. Fox had said the helicopter would arrive in an hour.  
He _could_ go by Times Square and tell her. But if she wanted to  
talk about it, he'd be late.

She'd understand, he decided, and went to get his trenchcoat  
and fedora.

Act 1: Scene 3

Bright lights shone below them, as the plane started its  
descent. "Are we there already?" asked Broadway, his breath  
fogging the view through his window.

Fox shook her head. "We're stopping at Midway to refuel,  
but," she added, "despite what the original script might have led  
you to think, it only takes about five hours to get to LAX from  
JFK. Six if there's a bad head wind. We should be there just  
before dawn." She opened her briefcase and pulled out a box.  
"This is for you."

He took it from her. "Thanks!" He tried to unwrap it  
carefully, gave up, and ripped the package open. He stared at the  
object curiously. "A balloon?"

Fox's pale face flushed bright red as she snatched it from his  
confused fingers. "Um ... Wrong present. Here." She tossed him  
another box, and stashed his first gift under some papers in her  
case.

He poked at the box, wondering what _this_ one was. He undid  
the bow with one talon, and pulled off the top. "Cool shades!" He  
put them on. "What do you think?"

"We've got fifteen minutes to Chicago, an empty gas tank, on  
a no-smoking flight, it's dark, and you're wearing sunglasses."  
She grinned. He stared. She sighed. "Never mind. I'm going to  
stretch my legs and get a cup of coffee. Would you like anything?"

He nodded vigorously.

VVVVV  
Act 1: Scene 4

The terminal was crowded, but not uncomfortably so. Fox spied  
a clean-looking kiosk with the enchanting scent of coffee beans  
emanating from inside, and stood in line. Usually, she had someone  
else do this for her, but she did need to move her legs, and  
besides, she could only face so many of Broadway's questions at one  
time. This trip was supposed to promote human-gargoyle relations.  
Killing the gargoyle would not be a step in the positive direction.

It wasn't his fault, she knew. He'd never been awake on a  
flight before, outside of a few quick helicopter trips through and  
just past the city. David had recommended she see the gargoyles'  
ignorance of modern life as innocence. It helped.

She smiled to herself. David had been surprised when she'd  
called him after takeoff. She probably should have mentioned the  
trip to him first, but ...

"And lo! there were many Goliaths!"

She turned, senses instantly alert for attack. It _could_ have been  
someone reading out loud from the Bible, she thought, when she  
saw no Quarrymen surrounding her, but that wasn't in any translation  
she'd read. She calmed herself, let her gaze wander more casually  
around the terminal as she tried to figure out who'd said it. Her  
gaze rested on four women standing a few feet away: three brunettes  
with glasses and a redhead with suitcases. Could they be Quarrymen  
sympathizers, alerting someone to her presence?

She was aware of being alone; she'd fought her share of  
battles with and without help, both before and immediately  
following Alex's birth. She felt confident she could take any of  
the four women, and possibly all of them. She just didn't want to  
try it in her business suit and heels.

Nor did it seem necessary, as they appeared to simply be  
chatting, and pulling things from shopping bags. Purple plastic  
things. With wings.

"Can I help you?" asked the lady behind the counter in a bored  
voice.

She gave them another look, then ordered two coffees and a  
dozen croissants. She counted out the money (something else she  
hadn't done in ages) and the woman handed her the order.

By the time she'd returned her attention to the women, they'd  
gone. She was still concerned about what she'd thought she'd  
heard, and more importantly, seen. They couldn't be ...

Nah.

Act 1: Scene 5

"Well what do you know?" Jackal mumbled to himself. "It looks  
like we're going to have a little reunion!" He giggled.

"What are you babbling about now?" asked Hyena, moving behind  
him to read over his shoulder. He'd been logged onto the Internet  
most of the night, cackling to himself every so often.

"We're going to have company. Fox is bringing Broadway to  
Hollywood."

"You'd better be kidding."

"Hardly. I just got email from Castaway himself. He's made  
us a rather nice offer."

"I hope it's nicer than the last offer we had," she muttered.

"Now sister dear, that wasn't such a bad job. Not just anyone  
can be in a Star Trek movie."

"They only reason they wanted us was because we already had  
our costumes!" She crossed her arms, extended her fingers and  
tapped her sides with them. It was a nervous habit she'd picked up  
which she knew annoyed him. "Although the director was kinda  
cute," she admitted.

"If you say so. And yes, this is a much better deal. We get  
to make our own movie."

"For true?" She leaned over him to see. "How do you know  
it's really him? I heard people can fake addresses on this thing."

"You can, but it's not. It's him." He pushed her out of his  
way. "If you wanted, I could set up a screen name for you. I  
have three spares."

"No thanks. Too many weirdos out there." Not that you're not  
one of them, she thought at her brother. He'd set up one screen  
name to be a sixteen year old girl, and had spent more than one  
evening chatting away with Lexington getting bits of information  
out of him. Thanks to "Jacqui," they knew the gargoyles had joined  
forces with Xanatos again. It still weirded her out.

"He says their flight is due to arrive just before dawn."

"Perfect! We cause a delay, make sure he's turned to stone,  
then attack the plane. We can get rid of a gargoyle," she made a  
fist, "and Fox, all at once."

He grunted. "There's not much style to that."

"We can have it explode in midair," she said cajolingly, and  
he smiled.

"I like the way you think!"

There was a chime. "What's that?" she asked him.

"Instant Message." He read it. "We can't blow up the plane."

"Why not?" It _had_ been a pretty good idea, dammit.

"Look." She leaned over again and read:

MTGaT: Sorry, kids. ABC would never let us get away with  
that on-camera. Think of something else.

"Great. Standards and Practices strikes again. Do you have  
any ideas?"

"Well, we could bribe the head of security, who happens to be  
a Quarrymen sympathizer, into helping us break onto the set of  
'Shanna!' and force Broadway to blow up a beloved Hollywood pier on  
camera, thereby ruining the gargoyles' reputation for good."

She looked at him, and burst out laughing. He joined her,  
sides shaking for several minutes.

When they finally calmed down, she said, "Now, seriously, what  
are we going to do?"

"It'll have to be big."

"Spectacular."

"Castaway wants the gargoyles to be completely vilified in the  
eyes of the public."

"Can we link them to British royalty?"

"Doubt it, although they are illegal aliens. Maybe we could  
pull an Eliot Ness and get them on income tax evasion."

"Boring. We could set him up to annihilate the cast of  
'Melrose Place.' They film two stages over from 'Shanna!'."

"And risk his being hailed as a hero? No, it has to be  
bigger, more terrible."

Hyena drummed her fingers again, then rummaged through her  
suitcase. "I thought I brought it with me," she said absently,  
then pulled out a large book, its leather binding cracking and  
peeling. The faded gold lettering on the cover proclaimed, "Foiled  
No Longer: A Villain's Guide to Besting Heroes, by Snidely  
Whiplash."

"That old thing again?"

"It got me out of jail, didn't it?"

"That and a few ounces of nitro," he admitted. "Anything  
inspiring?"

She ran her finger down the chapter titles, reading as she went.  
"'Railroad Ties: the Real Story. Making Magical Talismans Work  
For You. Honourable Equals Dead. Infanticide: Preventive  
Maintenance That Works. Idiot Advisors: Low Cost Now, High Price  
Later. Brilliant Plans and Why You Should Never Tell Them to the  
Hero.'"

"Go back. What was that about the magical talismans? That  
could be diverting."

She flipped to the appropriate page. "It says here that most  
magical talismans have a specific spell attached. Learn everything  
that can go wrong with yours, testing it on henchmen if need be,  
and use the malfunctions against your enemy. It's got a few  
examples."

"Does it mention any talismans specifically?"

She nodded and read: "The Ruby Red Herring. The TGS Edit  
Staff. Hey, this one looks interesting.

"'The McGuffin Sapphire, with the proper spell, can give the  
user the power of mind control over fish. According to legend, it  
was part of a meteor that originally came from a place known as La  
Planeta de Agua.'" Her ear-sensors must have deceived her, for she  
could have sworn she distinctly heard a tiny voice say "Arriba!"

"What kinds of nasty side effects does it have?"

"If it's not used correctly, the user will instantly turn anything he  
looks at into tapioca."

Jackal rubbed his hands together. "Yes, I can see it now!  
Broadway, making his first television appearance, shocks the world  
by turning beloved talk show host Shanna into a puddle of tapioca,  
and all on camera! Perfect!" He frowned, and mouthed, "Tapioca?"

"That's what it says in the scr ... book."

"If that's what it says in the _book_," he said slowly. "But,  
tapioca! Please, couldn't she have come up with something a little  
more original? Christine and Constance completely rewrote their  
episodes, and we get a jewel that turns things to tapioca." He  
expelled his breath. "You know, when I was still doing 'Max  
Headroom,' we were on the cutting edge. We were avant garde, doing  
things they're just now doing on tv. But this!" He waved his  
hands. "Tapioca!" he said in disbelief.

There was another chime. Hyena peeked at the message:

MTGaT: Deal with it.

"I can't work like this!" Jackal said to the screen. "And don't even  
try that Midnight Bomber thing again. We need a real plot."

In response, a friendly electronic voice said: "You've got mail."

"What is it?" she asked, not entirely wanting to know.

"Script update," he said, and scrolled down. "I don't believe this."

"Don't believe what?"

"Remember that joke you made about bribing the sympathizing  
security chief?"

Realization hit her in the stomach, or what was left of her  
stomach anyway. "No. Say it ain't so."

"It's so."

"But that was in the original script!" she whined. "It was  
cheesy, and contrived, and ... "

"You'd prefer the tapioca, then?" He read further and chuckled.

"What?"

"She says to remind you that you could go back to doing  
cameos on 'Animaniacs.' The fuzzy Warner-heads miss you."

She clenched her fists. "Why that little ... "

He extended his arm below his elbow and covered her mouth.  
"Cree. Y7."

"Oh sure, after Broadway's 'present' you remember this is a  
kid's show."

He tried to mollify her. "Listen, she's backed up with hunting down  
song lyrics. She spent two hours at Nicole's trying to find the  
words to one song in our medley."

"So?"

"Think about it. The author's more concerned with making things  
rhyme than with keeping a close eye on the plot. As long as we  
follow the general scheme, we can do what we want." He tapped  
Snidely's book and winked.

It took a moment, but then she understood. Sure, they had to  
follow the cheesy plot, maybe even speak some of the god awful  
dialogue Jackal'd just downloaded. (For their next job, they were  
giving out their home address; it might be dangerous, but reading  
scripts off a computer screen was giving her headaches.) When the  
author wasn't looking, though, they could do as they pleased.

A wide grin covered her face. "We can do this." Something  
else he'd said poked at her. "Medley?"

"Medley." He held out his hand, and with a sigh, she took it.

"Might as well get this over with." They began to dance.

[Cue: "Show Business"]

"There's no business like foe business,  
That's one business we know!  
Framing Broadway for the flaming boat-dock;  
The conflagration will be quite grand."

Said he:

"Ask me how I feel to break a padlock!"  
Said she:

"Like swinging old socks  
Filled with wet sand!"

They continued together:

"There's no people like cloned people,  
Believe us, we'd have known!  
Who'd have thought when we were both on mother's knee  
We'd be here plotting so evilly?  
Hopin' ABC execs won't tune in and see  
Freudian undertones!"

He'd moved closer to her during the course of their song, and  
was still holding her blade-like fingers in his own. His one  
organic eye focused on her, and past her; she stayed as she was,  
not daring to break the moment that stretched between them. Barely  
moving, she leaned towards him.

He blinked. She blinked. They dropped hands and quickly went  
to opposite sides of the room.

Flustered, and a beat behind the music, she began to sing again:

[Cue: "Impossible Dream']

"To scheme the improbable scheme  
To plot the unworkable plot  
To gloat when the heroes are helpless  
To run very fast when they're not!  
To curse when our intrigue is foiled  
Because they're too clever by half  
And when schemes come at last to fruition,  
To laugh the maniacal laugh!"

He watched her. "Sis, I thought we agreed. You're not  
supposed to be watching 'Pinky and the Brain.'"

"I can handle it!"

"Even after Romy the Circus Freak?"

"He wasn't a freak! He was sweet and sensitive and ... "

"He was a cloned mouse."

"You never like my boyfriends."

"But Sis ... " He sighed. "Never mind. Ready for part  
three?" She nodded, happy to be back in more familiar territory,  
arguing with her dweeb brother. Yes, arguing was good. She looked  
at him and grinned.

[Cue: "You're Nothing Without Me"]

"Good guys always bore me:  
Peace? Love? Liberation?  
Scoundrels steal the stories  
With some imagination."

He replied:

"Maybe oiled pistols  
Maybe sharp fingers,  
Inverse coiled crystals  
Can give pain that lingers.  
Just who we are, I'll spell out:  
We are the jagged blades,  
Two broken gems that fell out  
The first day that the world was made."

She began pacing. Damn Fox and her self-righteous act,  
anyway. She should have offed the rich little twit when she'd had  
the chance at Riker's. But no, Coyote had stopped her.

"Fox thinks I'm history,  
In some jail chillin',  
Escape's one mystery  
Of the supervillain."

Her brother was ignoring her, off on his own tangent again:

"They think they've won it  
Each time they beat us,  
But when they've done it,  
They still can't defeat us.  
We've been here so much longer,  
We'll be here when they fall  
Survival favors stronger,  
And chaos is strongest of all!

She stopped and watched him as he really got into it.

"They're nothin' without us,  
Without us they'd better move on.  
A triumphant hero  
Is barely a zero  
With all of his enemies gone.  
They show off, but we know,  
They need us at their curtain call!  
And though they might rout us  
Without us they're nothing at all!"

Oh boy, he was really off and running this time. She snapped  
her fingers in front of him. "Hey, you, back to reality."

"I'm in reality, Sis. Think about it. Dingo wants to be a hero,"  
he sneered. "But what's a hero without a villain?" He placed his  
hand on her shoulder and pointed to an invisible place on the ceiling.  
"We come from a long proud tradition of Disney villains. We give  
princes something to fight, princesses something to flee from in terror."

"Oh, that's enlightened," she muttered. "Why not a strong  
brave princess saving a knight in distress?"

"That's what Elisa was," he explained using his You're an  
Idiot voice. She scowled at him, and pulled away from his hand.  
Contrition, real or faked she could never tell, crossed his face.  
"Look at it this way, now that the show is canceled, all we have  
left are Ariels and Snow Whites. We can easily beat those kinds of  
wimps."

She thought about it. "Like Fox. Except the closest thing  
she's got to a prince with her is," she snorted, "Broadway."

"Precisely."

"Each night we plot,  
How we'll get even,  
Awaiting one shot  
And hope our boat ain't leavin'.  
We make things happen:  
Fire, Ice-Storm Brooklyn.  
While fans are clappin'  
We'll put our little hooks in ... "

"I'll distract our precious leader,  
You come up from behind ... "

"I'll get her, and I'll bleed her,  
Until she thinks death would be kind!"

"They're nothing without us!  
Without us, their lives would be flat.  
A Phillip is grand  
For Aurora's hand,  
But Maleficent's got where it's at!  
Tomorrow, we'll prove it!  
We'll orchestrate Broadway's Great Fall!  
We're already halfway to true villainy!  
His fame's gonna cost him  
Though posthumously:  
The public will soon see  
That gargoyles are nothing at all!"

VVVVV  
Act 1: Scene 6

Angela was worried, very worried. She'd gone by the Park a  
few times to see if Broadway had started his shift yet, but she  
hadn't seen him. It was almost morning, and the rest of the clan  
had gathered in the castle to wait for day.

She paced the floor. "Where could he be?"

Xanatos tapped at the doorframe and entered the room. He'd  
been very polite about such things since their return, even if it  
was technically his castle. "Broadway left this in my office. I  
believe it's for you." He handed it to Goliath, who opened it and  
began to read aloud:

[Cue: "Leaving on a Jet Plane," Keith with Bill overlapping]

"Our bags are packed, and ready to go.  
We're waiting for our ride to show.  
I hate to call you back to say good-bye,  
But if we wait another day,  
That's one more night I'll be away,  
Already I'm so excited, I could fly!  
We're leaving on a jet plane.  
Don't know when we'll be home again.  
Hey, it's almost time to go.  
So often we've been pushed around,  
So many times we've been put down.  
I'm going to teach these people a few things.  
Every place I go, I'll speak of you.  
Every thing I'll see, I'll see for you.  
When I come home, I hope good news I'll bring.  
'Cause we're leaving on a jet plane.  
Don't know when we'll be back again.  
Hey, it's almost time to go.  
The 'copter's on the helo pad;  
We've gotta go, but don't be sad.  
I'll tell Shanna who we really are.  
Fox says things will be okay,  
That they'll love me in L.A.  
Maybe I'll become a movie star!  
Now we're leaving on a jet plane!  
Don't know when we'll be back again.  
Hey, babe, it's time to go."

Babe, she thought. If he even meant that for me, I'm going  
to hurt him. Of all the selfish ...

"Angela," said Brooklyn, setting a comforting arm on her  
shoulder. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Broadway can take care of  
himself."

"I know," she said.

"The lad always was a mite star-struck," mused Hudson.

Lexington poked him in the side. "Ed, you're reading from the  
wrong script."

"What're you talking about?" Hudson reached behind the couch  
and pulled out his copy of the script. "See? I'm supposed to say  
'The lad always was a mite star-struck' in this scene."

"We're not using that script anymore," said Lex, and pulled  
another copy of the script from beneath the couch. He read:  
"'Alex's been kidnaped!'" He looked triumphant, then puzzled.

Brooklyn said, "That was from 'Ransom,' Thom."

"Who wrote this stuff? Sheesh!" Lex tossed the book over his  
shoulder out of frame and dug under the couch again, his tail sticking  
out and wiggling. "We really should clean out under here more often,"  
he said, his voice muffled. I just found an old copy of 'Awakening.'  
Ah! Here it is." He pulled out a somewhat battered copy of a script  
with suspicious jelly-esque stains on the cover. He dusted it off.

"See? 'BROOKLYN comforts ANGELA. ANGELA blows him off. Sunrise,  
fade to black.' You and I don't even get speaking parts in this one."

Angela was struck by inspiration, and brushing off Brooklyn's hand,  
said "Let me see that! Maybe it'll tell us when Broadway's due back."  
She reached out for the book, when, on cue, the sun rose.

Fade to black.

VVVVV  
Act 2: Scene 1

Broadway again had his face against the glass, staring out  
into the predawn light. Fox checked her Rolex, calculating just  
how much time they had before daybreak. They'd be cutting it  
close. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

"Madame," came the pilot's voice over the intercom. "We're  
going to have to stay in a holding pattern above the city." Right  
on time.

She unbuckled her safety belt and moved to the cockpit,  
cheering inside as she saw Broadway following her in curiosity.  
She hoped he would act the way she expected when the scene played  
itself out.

"What's going on?" she asked the pilot.

[Cue: "London Bridge"]

"An airplane is going down,  
Going down,  
Going down.  
An airplane is going down,  
My fair lady.  
They'll foam the runway, and the fields,  
And the fields,  
And the fields.  
They'll foam the runway and the fields,  
And scrape them later."

As per her expectation, Broadway's face lit up with new-found ardor.  
Lives were in danger, and his gargoyle nature made him instantly  
protective of the defenseless humans.

"It's a young couple on their honeymoon," added the pilot. She shot  
him a glance; he wasn't supposed to ad lib this bit.

"I'll get them!" Broadway said, and ran back to the emergency  
exit. Damn. She'd considered the possibility of his leaving the  
plane suddenly, and had come up with nothing to do about the  
depressurization of the cabin.

"Hold on!" she shouted to the flight crew, and slammed the  
door just as Broadway forced the exit open. The pressure drop  
pulled the door, but it held. She heard him slam the other door  
above the roar of wind, but didn't dare open the cockpit for fear  
of what might happen.

"There he is," said the pilot.

Broadway had glided out away from their plane, and was diving  
towards the other. Fox could hear nothing from the outside, so she  
was certain she didn't hear what she thought she heard:

"Here I come to save the day!"

He ripped the cockpit of the other plane wide open, pulling the  
occupants free, and gliding off with them just before the plane went  
down. They landed amid cheers from a small crowd gathered on  
the runway. Just as planned.

"Take us down, Harvey," she said with a smirk. "And tell our  
young couple they can expect a bonus next month."

"Okay, but ... "

"But what?"

"Jeff and Mary couldn't make it. They radioed just before the  
tower notified us."

"You mean that was real?" Talk about fortuitous happenings.

"It sure wasn't Memorex."

Fox remained quiet for the plane's descent. When she disembarked,  
she saw Broadway surrounded by gawkers, most of them friendly-  
looking. The news crew she'd tipped off was waiting for him. A  
blandly beautiful woman held a microphone to his face, asking what  
she no doubt thought were intent questions.

A limo pulled up beside the plane. Harvey loaded her bags in the  
trunk and nodded good-bye. She offered him half a wave and got  
into the car. It was time to go rescue their star.

"You were notified about the nature of your other passenger,  
correct?" she asked the chauffeur.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, bringing his eyes up in the rear-view.

"Good. Let's go get him."

They pulled smoothly away from the plane and headed towards  
the crowd. She hoped he didn't say anything damaging before she  
coached him more. She'd already planned out what he was going to  
say to Shanna; she couldn't let him undermine them too quickly.

The car stopped, and she opened the door. "Broadway! Get in!"

He turned his head, and his eyes shone with an unfamiliar gleam. He  
was surrounded by humans, and none of them were running away. It  
was a new experience for him. She should let him stay and relish the  
moment, cherish this time with his new-found friends.

Like hell, she thought. "Come on!"

The reporter asked him quickly, "Do you have anything you want  
to tell us? Why did you save those people?"

Broadway looked at her like she was an idiot, which, Fox mused, might  
not be that bad of a leap. "Gargoyles protect," he said, with a perfect  
balance of humility and confusion as to why she didn't understand. He  
couldn't have done better if he'd practiced.

Fox let herself smile as he entered the car. This was going to work out nicely.

"Did you see them, Fox? They loved me!"

"Of course they loved you. You saved two people on national tv. You're a  
hero, a star."

"I was just doing my job," he said, his modesty already tarnishing. They'd  
have to work on his sincerity for tonight's recording.

"That's exactly what you needed to do. Now, the hotel is a few blocks  
away, and sunrise will be in about ten minutes. While you're asleep, I'll  
finalize the arrangements we'll need for tonight. How does a power  
supper sound to you?"

"My favorite words!" he said, and stared out the tinted windows at the  
passing streets.

She watched him for a moment, wondering if she was doing the  
right thing. That had never been a consideration before, and the  
new thought puzzled her.

Must be getting old, she thought, and opened her celphone.

VVVVV  
Act 2: Scene 2

The Manhattan skyline glowed with an angry red fire, as the  
sun slipped behind tall buildings. Xanatos watched it go with an  
unspoken regret. Another day's useless energy spent, he mused, and  
then wondered why his mind had picked that phrase. He'd just  
gotten off the phone with Fox, who'd called him when she'd wakened.  
It would be three more hours until sunset in Hollywood, which he  
hadn't thought of before she'd reminded him. That was something he  
should have known, but his heart insisted otherwise, that Fox  
couldn't be that far away. Even when she'd been in Australia, he'd  
felt her close to him, and knew a slim but real pain when he'd  
remembered that she was not.

Just like now.

He heard roars echoing faintly through the castle. The clan  
had awakened. He hurried the short distance from his office to the  
living room, where they'd unexpectedly spent the day.

Angela was staring at a piece of paper and reading slowly:  
"'Sorry. Had to pull the script for changes. Will get a new copy  
to you ASAP. - MM:)' Great," she muttered. "So much for finding  
out when he's coming home. Or if."

"He's certainly been busy while he's been gone," Xanatos said,  
catching their attention. "This was on the news while you were  
asleep. He put the tape into the vcr. It was already primed,  
thanks to Owen.

" ... Gargoyles protect," said Broadway on the screen. The  
reporter moved back into sight as Broadway ducked into a limo.

"There you have it, America. Gargoyles protect. And you saw  
it on KCOP first." He turned off the tape.

"At least he is staying out of trouble," said Goliath.

"I can't believe he left without telling us," Angela said, a  
sentiment he wanted very badly to echo. However ...

"I'm sure Broadway will be fine. Fox told me she's hired the  
best security money can buy to safeguard him."

Brooklyn looked at him askance. "Would this be the same  
security you used to send up against us?"

He held up his hands. "That's water under the bridge."

"That's not my point. We used to trash your security forces,  
remember?"

So they had. Silence filled the room, made even deeper when  
Angela left the room, her wings wrapped tightly around her.

VVVVV  
Act 2: Scene 3

"Fox! You've got to see this!" Broadway closed his eyes, let  
the breeze from the moving car caress his face. He couldn't not  
watch, and he looked again, gazing at the bright lights around him  
with incredulity. So this was what it was like to be among them  
and not be afraid. He could learn to like it.

He heard her laugh. "Maybe you'd better come down here. I've  
got Angela on the phone."

"Angela?" He shimmied back down into his seat and took the  
phone from her eagerly. "Hey babe."

"Broadway? You're all right!"

"Sure, I'm all right. Why?"

"I was worried. Broadway, you're thousands of miles away. If  
you get into trouble ... "

He interrupted her:

[Cue: "That's All I Ask"]

"No more talk of darkness  
Forget these wide-eyed fears.  
I'm here. Nothing will harm me,  
Not Fox, not Castaway's army.  
Let me bring us freedom;  
Acceptance dry your tears.  
I'm here. Hollywood's awesome.  
Want stars? I think I saw some."

She paused. A long silence stretched out on the phone.

"Angela?" he said, wondering if they'd lost the connection.

"You say you'll love me every waking moment,  
Turn my head with talk of older times,  
You say you need me with you, now and always.  
Come back home, prove all you said was true.  
That's all I ask of you."

"Let me tell you something:  
I think I saw Stallone!  
Tonight, I'll be on tv.  
Tune in, and you can see me."

"All I want is you there  
When day turns us to stone.  
You're far, so far away now,  
I don't know what to say now."

"Fox says this interview  
Will be my big break.  
This could free us from our solitude.  
She says my Q rating is a-okay now.  
Tell me that you're thinking of me, too.  
Angie, that's all I ask of you."

"I can't reach you where  
You are this evening.  
How can we be there to follow you?  
Say you're coming back  
To those who need you.  
Do you love me?"

"You know I do."

"Come home. That's all I ask of you."

"I can't right now, babe." The phone clicked. "Angela? Angela?"  
He closed the celphone. "She hung up. She sounded awfully mad."

"She's just jealous," said Fox absently, typing at her computer. "She's  
never been a star."

"Yeah," he said quietly, and watched the lights go by in the night.

"Everywhere I go, I'll think of you ... "

"We're here," said Fox, and he lost his train of thought.

The restaurant had been cleared of gawkers, which he supposed  
made sense, but disappointed him anyway. He'd wanted to be out  
among the humans, mingling. An alluring smell wafted his way from  
somewhere unseen, making his stomach rumble. His autonomic  
survival instincts kicked into action. Eat now, mingle later.

Fox approached a man in an odd costume standing ill at ease  
near the door. Broadway wracked his memory for where he'd seen  
something like this before in a movie or on tv.

"Xanatos, party of five," she told him. Maitre d', that was it.

The man's eyebrows rose far above what would have been his  
hairline had he one, as his gaze settled nervously on Broadway.

"Ah, yes. Madame and," he hesitated, "sir's party has already  
arrived."

"Excellent," said Fox, "would you be so kind as to show us to  
our table?"

"Of course," he stammered, and turned around. He paused,  
closed his eyes, and took an audibly deep breath. Then, calmly, he  
led them back to a table at which three humans were already  
sitting. They rose quickly, quickly-masked fear on the faces of  
the woman and one of the men. The other man appraised him openly,  
sizing him up as he'd seen many a warrior do before.

The maitre d' bowed his head elegantly as he indicated their  
seats, and told them, "Georges will be here shortly to take your  
order." He left.

"Fox," said the woman in an almost-pleasant, if strained, tone  
of voice. "How good to see you again."

"Marcy, Skip, Hugo, this is Broadway. Broadway, meet the  
people who are going to make you a star."

"Hi," he said, waving his hand in what he hoped was a friendly  
manner. Marcy drew back, startled.

"Marcy and Skip are producers. Between them, they've created  
eight popular shows. Hugo is in charge of Pack Media's interests  
in Hollywood." The man who hadn't shown fear of him inclined his  
head amiably.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, and extended his hand. Broadway took  
it, liking this human instantly.

A man dressed very much like the maitre d', and twice as nervous,  
neared the table, then stood back as if unsure. Fox saw him, and told  
the others. "Perhaps we should sit down."

The humans took their seats, Hugo pulling out Fox's for her,  
while Broadway looked around for a chair that would support him.  
He saw none.

The waiter gasped, and hurried away, returning moments later  
with someone else, carrying an oversized chair that looked more  
sturdy than the ones the humans were using. Broadway smiled at  
them, which made the poor man even more nervous. He sat down, and  
that seemed to make him feel better.

"Welcome to The Quilted Giraffe. Would you like to start out  
with one of our many fine wines?"

"That would be lovely," said Fox. She bit her lip in thought.  
"Broadway, can gargoyles metabolize alcohol?" He stared at her  
without comprehension. She clarified: "Have you ever had mead?"

"Oh. Yes. At Midwinter, we used to have hogsheads full of  
it ... " She had already turned her attention back to the waiter,  
ordering something he thought was probably French.

"Would madame's party care to order now, or would you prefer  
more time?"

Fox unfolded her menu, scanning it quickly. "I think I know  
what I'd like. Are the rest of you ready?"

Broadway hurriedly picked up his own menu, and started to  
read. Goliath had been on him lately about not reading out loud,  
but reading to himself took a lot longer. As the waiter took  
orders from the humans, he tried to find words he recognized. Some  
things he knew from the Dixon Hill novels Elisa had given him, but  
he hadn't believed they were true.

"And for you, sir?" asked the waiter, pencil at the ready.

"Ummm ... " he said, still reading. "I haven't decided yet."  
As a last resort, he turned to Fox. "What would you recommend?"

She opened her menu again. "Try the scallops in saffron.  
Make it a double order. And as an appetizer, the escargot in  
garden herb sauce."

"Aren't those, ummm, snails?"

"Yes, and they're delicious. Trust me." He glanced sideways at her.  
Trusting her to bring him across the country and away from his clan  
was one thing. Trusting her with his food was quite another.

"All right," he said slowly.

The waiter took their menus, leaving them to converse alone.

"So, Broadway," said Skip, "how are you liking L.A.?"

"It's great!" he said immediately. Then he wilted a little,  
"I really haven't seen much of it yet."

"We'll fix that tomorrow night," said Fox.

"I wanted to ask you about that," said Hugo. "Lamant says  
everything is set up and ready to go for the taping tonight, but he  
told me it'll be a lot harder to secure our star if you take him  
touring. I agree."

"You worry too much, Hugo," she replied, and sipped her water.  
"All right. When we arrive on the set, coordinate with Lamant  
about beefing up security for tomorrow. We might have to limit the  
tour somewhat."

Marcy was staring at him. Her hand darted out and touched his  
arm, pulling back in as if he'd burned her. "I ... Wow." Skip  
frowned at her, but the look in his eyes said he'd wanted to touch,  
too.

"I don't bite," Broadway offered, which made Marcy giggle in  
a too-high pitch.

"Of course you don't," said Skip, who then busied himself with  
his napkin.

These humans weren't like the others he'd encountered. Most  
ran screaming when they met him, or else gave him the same  
appraising look he'd gotten from Hugo. Broadway wasn't much on  
reading gargoyle faces, and with the exceptions of Elisa, Matt, and  
a few of their more memorable foes, human faces looked pretty much  
alike to him. Even so, he was picking up the same kind of fear he  
was used to emanating from these two, but it was held in place by  
masks. Marcy's said, "It's not polite to stare, or run." Skip's  
said, "I'm going to ignore the obvious fact that the person I'm  
talking to is a seven foot tall blue-green monster." He'd never  
met people with such apparent masks before. It was something else  
new to file away and tell his clan.

Hugo remained wary, but without the fear. There was no hiding; his  
eyes said, "Yes, so you're big, green, and have wings. What's your point?"

Humans were very strange, Broadway decided, as the waiter  
brought a bottle and a bucket of shaved ice.

VVVVV  
Act 2: Scene 4

A bottle and a half later, Skip and Marcy were in much better  
moods. Hugo had nursed one glass all through dinner, while Fox had  
satisfied herself with two. Broadway followed their example,  
sipping at the sweet drink rather than swallowing it in a gulp as  
his first impulse had been to do. Wine, he decided, was very  
little like mead. He watched the lights shine through his own  
barely-touched third glass.

"'Gabbing with a Gargoyle,'" Marcy was saying, "It'll be the  
only talk show with a host who's weirder than the guests!"

Her words seeped into his mind. "Hey ... " he started.

"No no no no," said Skip, "we go directly to the horror film.  
'Broadway Melody.'"

"Excuse me," said Broadway.

"Why don't you start with the sitcom?" asked Hugo. "Broadway:  
the cute but sassy alien who secretly lives with a typical suburban  
family."

Both Skip and Marcy glared at him, then went back to their  
discussion. "We'll have a tour! Feel it! Touch it! Know it's  
alive!"

"Excuse me," said Broadway again, much louder this time. Skip  
and Marcy didn't hear him.

[Cue: "He Plays the Violin"]

"Oh, we'll fill 'em up with passion  
We'll put him on the news.  
We can pack them in the aisles  
To see this hulking brute!  
In truth, they won't recall  
All the cash they spend at all.  
Even now ..."

"He plays a good villain  
With a silly, infectious grin,  
And he slays.  
Oh, he slays  
For he says,  
Yes he says, that it's  
Broadway, Broadway the demon,  
For his heart, he'd be a free man,  
A little unstrung  
Planet of the Apes-like,  
Broadway's the one!"

"He'd be a good villain,  
But I get a feeling within,  
That they'd pay,  
Yes they'd pay,  
To see him,  
Only him, and it's ...  
Broadway, Broadway the icon and  
Hello to the hike on  
Merchandise for this.  
Schwarzenegger-like,  
They'll just die for a kiss."

"When Oscar passes by,  
Don't even think to cry!  
For we made  
What they paid,  
And the net  
That we get, oh, shall be  
From Broadway, Broadway our new star.  
Bless his heart, he's going to go far  
And always we'll be,  
For thirty percent,  
His loyal creative team.  
Our meal-ticket villain!"

Fox looked conspicuously at her watch. "The show starts in an  
hour and a half. We should be going." She waved for the waiter,  
who appeared with far less nervousness than before and presented  
her with a slim black book, which she opened, glanced over, and  
into which she placed a slim golden card. The humans stood slowly.  
Broadway followed suit as the waiter returned with the book. Fox  
took her card from it and thanked him. Broadway reminded himself  
to ask her about it later.

"Fox, darling, give my best to David," Marcy said, as Broadway  
brought his attention back to the others.

"It was nice to meet you," he said as politely as he could, and held  
out his hand on an impulse. Marcy's head snapped around,  
surprised. It was like she'd forgotten his existence. Did  
everyone around here have two-second attention spans?

After a moment, she shook his hand, as did Skip, and they  
remained standing as he, Fox and Hugo went outside, to where the  
limo already waited for them. When the car pulled away from the  
curb, Broadway turned to Fox unhappily.

"Did they hear anything I said? It was like they didn't even notice I  
was there!"

Before she could answer, Hugo said, "Get used to it." He  
turned his face towards the glittering lights without explanation.

Broadway didn't want to let it go. "Why did you come out  
here? The first time, I mean?"

Fox was already buried in her laptop. Hugo continued staring  
outside, until Broadway was certain he was doing the same thing  
Skip and Marcy had.

Then Hugo surprised him again. "The same reason as you. I  
saw the faces on the screen, and I wanted to be one of them."

So he'd been an actor, like Fox! Cool ... "Were you in a lot  
of movies?" he asked eagerly.

"No. I did stunt work for a while, but there weren't many jobs,  
and the few I did have ... Let's just say there weren't many  
roles available that I could and would do."

Broadway frowned. He recalled spending countless nights at  
the theatres, or sitting with Hudson watching the Late Late Movie,  
not to mention the videos Elisa had rented for them. Since their  
awakening, he'd seen hundreds of different actors and actresses in  
all sorts of films. He'd even imagined himself among them, in  
roles without number. Surely Hugo cold find something that he  
liked?

He said as much.

Hugo watched him a long moment, disbelief in his eyes. "You  
really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

Hugo smiled at him then, a real genuine smile rather than the  
polite but watchful ones Broadway had received since his arrival,  
even from Fox. It only lasted a few seconds, and was replaced with  
another mask, this one cool, professional, like the faces to which  
Broadway was accustomed.

"Fox," said the Hugo behind the mask, "where did you say you  
found this guy?"

"I told you, Manhattan's crawling with them."

"Remind me to visit the East Coast more often." With that  
mystifying phrase, Hugo turned to the driver, and gestured towards  
the studio gate.

VVVVV  
Act 2: Scene 5

The sound stage had to be at least as big as the Great Hall in  
Castle Wyvern, and it was filled with people bustling around in  
what he could only imagine was a productive manner. Several wore  
headphones, several more held clipboards, and a few ... He wasn't  
sure what their job was, but it seemed to involve holding steaming  
mugs of something and staring at him. They weren't night people,  
he decided.

Shanna, her hair immaculate, greeted them, her arms  
outstretched in an embrace-to-be. "Fox, darling, it's been too  
long. And this must be ... "

"I'm Broadway," he said, and held out his hand. Shanna took  
it and smiled.

"Broadway. It's good to meet you. You're just in time for  
makeup. Jessie!" A small human woman, a clipboard pressed against  
her chest, came over quickly, and watched him with large eyes.  
Lex, he thought, she looks like Lex would if he were human and  
female. If this worked, he'd have to get her email address for  
him. "Jessie, take our star to makeup. I need to discuss some  
things with Mrs. Xanatos."

"Okay," said the little woman, and gestured for him to follow her.

Despite her much shorter legs, he found it difficult to keep  
up. "Jessie, slow down."

At the sound of his voice, she gave a squeak and jumped. "You  
talk!"

"Of course I talk. Doesn't everyone?"

"I guess. I just wasn't expecting it."

This could be a problem, he thought. "What were you  
expecting?"

"Shanna said we'd be having a gargoyle on the set, and that he, you  
might look terrifying. She said not to be afraid, that the lady from  
Pack Media had assured her you wouldn't hurt anyone."

"I won't."

She nodded, but her eyes stayed wide and a little scared. She  
reached out her hand and touched his wing. When he didn't burst  
into flame, she left it there.

"Wow ... " she said. Then she pulled herself together. "Come on,  
we've got to get you to makeup."

Jessie led him back to a row of doors on the other end of the  
sound stage. She opened a door with a large reflective star  
attached to it. Broadway saw bright lights and a huge mirror, and  
a big woman with a painted-on face.

"Ah! Our star's here," she said in a deep voice. "Please sir, if you'll  
have a seat." She indicated a sturdy-looking chair that would have  
looked right at home in the deeper dungeons of Wyvern.

Broadway held his breath and settled into the chair. He  
looked back to thank Jessie, but she'd already gone back to  
whatever she'd been doing. He really had to remember to talk to  
her after the taping.

"Now," said the woman, walking behind him, "let's see if we  
can accent those cheekbones."

VVVVV  
Act 2: Scene 6

Five minutes before taping, Broadway emerged from makeup. Fox  
stared at him. Oh god, she thought, we're not going to put him on  
the air looking like that. As she rushed to his side, she amended  
to herself how people who'd never seen him before wouldn't know the  
difference anyway, and perhaps the makeup did make him look a  
little less intimidating.

But the mascara had to go.

"Here," she said, digging into her compact black purse and  
coming out with a crumpled tissue. "We've got to get that off  
you."

He moved her hand away, though not forcefully. "Francois says  
it'll keep me from washing out under the lights."

"Good for Francois. Now hold still." She dabbed at the eyeliner,  
remembering her own mother having wiped her face like this when  
she'd been young. The recollection, followed by far more recent  
and searing memories, was enough to make her hands start shaking.  
Her therapist was going to get a nice long visit when they got home.

"Places, people!" said the director, a short balding fellow named Armin  
something. Hammer, maybe. Broadway ducked out of her ministrations  
and hurried to his seat beside Shanna, where a steaming cup already  
waited for him. "And action!"

"Hello everyone. I'd like to welcome you to a very special  
edition of 'Shanna!' We don't have a studio audience with us  
today, because, well, we wouldn't want to frighten them." She  
chuckled at her own joke.

Fox clenched her fists, briefly wondering just how far across the  
sound stage she could toss the woman, and knowing with some regret  
that it wouldn't be nearly as far as she'd like. Okay, so her personal  
trainer was going to get a large chunk of her time, too.

Shanna turned her pretty, vacant head to her guest star.

[Cue: "On Broadway"]

"People say gargoyles are bad,  
Hey Broadway!  
Why don't you give us all the gargoyle news?"

"Hey Shanna, I'd just like to say,  
That I like it in L.A.,  
But those rumors just give me the blues."

"Tell about your love life,  
Hey Broadway!  
Tell us all the things we want to hear."

"I came here to tell you straight:  
We'll get nowhere with this hate,  
Hate is just a ..."

He paused, lost in thought, and then, like a light went off  
inside him, he said intensely:

"A mask to hide your fear!"

"They say your clan won't last too long,  
Hey Broadway!  
They say you're going to give up and hide away."

"They're all wrong, I hope they're wrong,  
'Cause we've been working way too long.  
Why can't we all just get along ... "

The ceiling exploded.

Debris hurled from above her. Fox threw her arms above her  
head in instinct as she dove for nonexistent cover, her mind  
automatically assessing the threat, calculating what she needed to  
do to survive, damning herself for not having checked the security  
measures and never mind what Lamant had told Hugo.

She scanned the room, locking onto Broadway. Good, he was  
still mobile, so much so that he narrowly saved Shanna from an  
over-large light fixture that would probably have ruined her whole  
evening. Score one for the Broadster, she thought.

The threat was airbourne, from the direction of the blasts  
that continued to come. Crew members shouted, a few screamed.  
Pandemonium was in full force. She blocked the others out. They  
were irrelevant; paying attention would only distract her from  
locating ...

There, at four o'clock, face shining gleefully in the hell-light of a laser  
cannon, hovered the problem. Her stomach went icy cold as Jackal's  
one organic eye swept the room and settled on her, a deranged grin  
spreading over his face. He pointed his arm at her, but held his fire.

Was he sparing her? Asking her to join in the fun? Her mind  
raced through and abandoned a dozen possibilities, while she  
checked her location and knew there was nowhere to hide. Why  
hadn't he either hailed her or killed her on sight?

The blow was hard enough to knock the wind out of her, not  
nearly enough to kill her, though as she fell and barely caught  
herself with her palms she knew it could easily have been. She  
turned her head, pain shooting through her neck, saw Hyena hovering  
just behind where she had been standing. So that's why he hadn't  
killed her.

"We should have invited Wolf and Dingo," Hyena said.

Jackal added, "We might have taped a little reunion special  
for the kiddies. The Pack, together again one last time." He  
aimed a shot at the far wall, bringing it perilously close to  
falling, and dumping more building materials on the few  
unfortunates nearby.

"Some of us got on with our lives," she said, getting to her  
feet faster than she'd thought possible.

"And some of us got the short end of things. While you were  
living in that castle, we were turned into this!" Hyena's fingers  
snapped out three feet towards Fox's neck. She dropped and rolled  
out of the way, coming up behind Hyena. The other woman simply  
turned in midair, cackling. Jackal's attention had already drifted.

She panted slightly. Oh yeah, the personal trainer was going to be  
really popular with her when she got home. "Whatever happened to  
you, you brought upon yourselves. Nobody forced you to become ... "  
She flailed for words.

"Freaks?!" Hyena's normally irritating voice reached a level  
only before obtained with the application of short fingernails to  
slate.

"I never said that." Where the hell had Jackal gone?

"You thought it, though." She drifted closer, forcing Fox  
backwards. "You always thought it. Even when we were on the same  
side, you always looked down at the rest of us. Dingo and I saved  
your butt in Panama, remember that? Did it matter to you? No, you  
were too good for us even afterwards." She raised her arm, eyes  
bright and ready for retribution in payment for all the wrongs she  
thought she'd suffered. Fox spent half a second wondering how many  
she herself really had committed, and how many existed only in the  
very messed-up minds of the lunatics before her.

"Sis, we've got what we came for." Jackal's voice came  
through the smoke. She saw him dragging a bulk in a large net.  
Broadway!

"I haven't," Hyena replied, and aimed directly at Fox's head.

There was no place to go, no place to hide. After all these  
years, the little red Fox had been caught.

Alex, she thought, be a good boy for Daddy.

She crouched and sprang at Hyena. The other woman zipped up  
out of her reach. Fox landed, reasonably well she thought, but  
high heels weren't made for combat. Her left heel twisted,  
spilling her to the ground.

As she fell, she thought madly, "I'm going to die in a bad horror movie  
cliche." For some reason, that was far worse than simply dying. She  
turned the instant she touched the ground, again facing Hyena's pointed  
arm, anger fueling her like a torch.

"Drop it, Sis. We don't have the time." Hyena cursed, and without even  
a backward glance, joined her brother to drag Broadway out the gaping  
hole that used to be the ceiling. Jackal said something Fox didn't hear,  
which set both of them to laughing as they flew up and out of sight.

VVVVV  
Act 3: Scene 1

Fox took a quick catalogue of her injuries, as she dropped her  
gaze from its now-useless contemplation of the sky and set to  
searching for Hugo and the security chief. Bruises everywhere,  
scrapes on her palms and knees, her expensive suit was beyond  
repair. She'd be fine.

Hugo saved her the trouble of finding him by dashing to her side  
momentarily. "Fox! Are you all right?" The worry in his voice was  
multi-layered. Yes, he was worried about her well-being, but he was  
also concerned for his own, namely what would happen to him if he  
had to report to David that she'd been injured.

"I'm fine," she said irritably. "Where's Lamant? I thought he said  
this place was safe!"

"I thought it was." The man she presumed was the head of  
security stepped through the new air conditioning Jackal had  
conveniently provided. He was smeared with dust, Fox noticed in  
her hyper-aware state, but not in the same way she and Hugo were.  
He'd probably been guarding outside when hell had broken loose, her  
mind provided, and she ignored the issue. It wasn't important.

"They've taken Broadway. We need to locate him fast." Before  
they blow everything, she thought but did not say.

"I'll put my best people on it," said Lamant, and hurried off,  
presumably to get said people. Who were supposed to have been on  
the roof guarding the damned building. A killer headache  
threatened behind her eyes, as nausea hit her like a sucker punch.  
She lurched.

Hugo grabbed her arm, helped her steady. "Why don't you sit  
down? Lamant and I will find Broadway." He led her to the  
director's chair, which for all its flimsiness was the only chair  
in the sound stage not damaged.

"I'll be fine," she said, rubbing the stiffness and the sweat  
from her neck, but letting him sit her down nonetheless. She  
pulled her hand forward, and stifled a shudder as the wetness  
proved to be blood instead. Carefully, so as not to let him see  
and worry, she wiped her hand on her skirt, knowing the navy would  
hide the stain. With a casual touch, she pulled the two restraining  
sticks from her hair and let it fall. Instant camouflage, she  
thought. Already her mind was clearing from that brief moment.

Nothing big, she told herself. I've had blows to the head before,  
and turned out just fine. She stood up, regretted it, but wouldn't let  
him see the effort it had taken.

"I need to find him, Hugo." She had to get back to the limo,  
where she'd left something very important. "It's personal."

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't be involved."

She tried out-staring him. She'd known Hugo for a good ten  
years, knew him to be more teddy bear than grizzly. He didn't  
yield. "Fine," she said resignedly, and headed outside anyway,  
hoping he'd assume she'd given in.

He followed her. "Where are you going?" Great. Teddy bear  
and watchdog.

"To the limo. I have a change of clothes in the trunk." She  
gestured. "I am _not_ wearing this any longer."

He smiled in a slightly patronizing way, probably not even  
realizing he was doing it. Yes, she thought, you just keep  
thinking it's another dress, Hugo my dear. She let him lead her  
out, as she made plans.

The tracking device she'd had installed in Broadway's shades  
would come in handy, assuming he hadn't lost them. Even if he had,  
she had equipment available set to scan for gargoyle-specific vital  
signs. That would take longer, though, and Broadway's time was  
running out fast.

By the time they'd reached the limo, Fox had decided she  
wasn't going to tell Lamant. It was foolish. He was the head of  
security for this little jaunt, and she ought to trust him  
completely. Instinct, the same which had kept her alive in a dozen  
scrapes that by all rights should have killed her, including the  
one in Panama, told her not to put her faith in a man they'd paid  
to keep watch. Even the most trusted guard could be bribed by a  
higher bidder, and Lamant was brand new. Only a few people had  
known where and when the taping was to be; Lamant was a very  
powerful weak link in the information chain. For that matter, she  
wasn't completely sure she could trust Hugo. Certainly she'd known  
him a long time, but she'd also known Jackal and Hyena for years,  
and it wasn't like he was a close friend like ... like ...

Now there was an interesting thought. Other than David, the  
closest things she had to friends were Owen, Maza, and the  
gargoyles. It certainly was an ah ... eclectic group. She  
smirked, while Hugo gallantly got her overlarge bag for her.

"What's so funny?"

"Fate. Are you sure you don't want help with that?" Hugo  
shook his head, but puffed a little. He'd have an out-and-out  
coronary if she told him what was inside.

She led him to the remains of a dressing room. He groaned  
slightly as he dropped the bag, no doubt thinking she'd brought her  
rock collection with her. She shut the door, letting him keep  
watch outside so no one came peeping, and then opened her case.

Not rocks, she thought.

Iron.

David's exoframe had been redesigned to withstand a fight with  
her stepfather, although they had learned rather quickly that  
"withstand" was a very different concept from "win." Even after  
Goliath's quick thinking had saved Alexander from the results of  
that custody battle, supposedly for good, they had quietly been  
updating the castle's defenses against specifically magical  
attacks.

Her new suit was an example of those updates.

The internal shell was made of a lightweight, reinforced  
polymer that fit to her perfectly, with sensors to monitor blood  
pressure, body temperature, heart rate, even sweat levels, and it  
could compensate accordingly. Between the interior and exterior  
lay a thin film of slightly viscous fluid, which kept the parts  
from wearing against one another, while giving her freedom of  
mobility in every direction. The outer shell was made of pure  
iron. The engineer who'd built the suit had balked at that part of  
the design, pointing out the fast oxidation and the comparatively  
low tolerances to battle-type stresses. He'd suggested a more  
sturdy substance, perhaps a steel-titanium alloy. David had  
suggested he seek other employment.

The engineer had built the suit.

It had survived a number of lab tests, and a field trial at Xanadu  
when she and David had played Hide-and-Seek for a weekend,  
testing their equipment. The time had come to see what it really  
could do.

As she donned the suit, she began to sing quietly to herself.

[Cue: "A Little More Mascara"]

"Once again, I'm a little outmatched  
By some over equipped enemy.  
Once again, it is time to fight someone  
Who is obviously stronger than me.  
With the old combination of anticipation  
And fear unrevealed,  
I position my little assortment of missiles,  
Projectiles and shields.  
So whenever I feel in a fight that I might  
Start coming to harm,  
I strap one great particle weapon  
To my rather slim upper arm.  
And I can cope again!  
Good God, there's hope again!  
When life's in a real bind again  
And my old sense of humor has up and gone,  
It's time for the land mines again.  
I put a couple more munitions on.  
When I see foes attack again,  
And tire of this perpetual marathon,  
I tighten my jet pack again  
And put a couple more munitions on.  
And everything's Howitzer,  
Laser beams,  
Mustard fumes,  
When it's a rifle's sights that you look through!  
Because when I feel dangerous, competent, powerful,  
The world that I'm looking at is powerful too!  
When my little road has a few bumps again  
And I need something stronger to lean upon,  
I put on my turbo pumps again  
And wham! I could take out a mastodon!  
So when Hyena comes to play,  
I'll blow her to next Saturday,  
And put a couple more munitions on!"

She glanced at the helmet. No. She couldn't face wearing that thing  
in this heat, temperature control or not. Instead she selected a face-  
concealing mask. No use letting too many people know what she was  
doing. Then again, she mused as she pulled it on, she could always  
claim the Pack really was throwing a reunion bash.

Hugo stared at her as she exited the dressing room.

"Fox ... "

"Don't start, Hugo."

"I can't let you go. I'm under strict orders from Mr. Xanatos  
to not let you out of my sight."

She smiled at him. Hugo hadn't betrayed them. Instinct told  
her that. Owen would say she was using her natural gifts; she  
thought it had more to do with knowing the ways in which people  
interacted. Either way, she trusted Hugo to do exactly as he'd  
said he would, which made what she was about to do a little harder.

"You're a good man, Hugo," she said, touching his arm and  
giving him just enough of a charge to knock him out. She propped  
him semi-comfortably against the wall. He'd have a nasty headache  
about ten minutes from now, but by then, she'd be long gone. "I'll  
be sure you get a large bonus for this."

VVVVV  
Act 3: Scene 2

Angela sat on her perch, pondering her life over the past year. She'd  
lost one father, gained another, met her mother, made new friends, left  
two homes, fought enemies without number, and had somehow managed  
to find time to fall in love. Not bad, she thought, for having spent the  
previous forty years of her life doing nothing more exciting than learning  
to swim and hunting deer in the deep forests of Avalon.

With Gabriel.

When they'd first grown old enough to learn the differences  
between the males and the females, she and he had already been the  
closest of friends. Surely they'd been destined for each other, to  
love each other the way Princess Katharine and the Guardian loved  
each other. She'd left him, though, and the rest of her siblings  
too, in order to seek her fortunes with the legendary Goliath and  
his friends. He hadn't tried to keep her there with him, though  
she'd seen in the sadness of his eyes that he'd wished she had  
stayed anyway. She had barely thought of him since, she was  
embarrassed to note. She had gone on with her life, had assumed he  
had done the same.

Now she thought she understood how he must have felt, watching  
her pull away from shore into the mists, how his heart must have  
ached, knowing well that she might never return, knowing too that  
to hold her against her wishes would be pointless, selfish.

She probed a painful memory, found it not to be as sore as the  
last time she revisited it, and allowed herself to recall one  
particular night, unremarkable really, but for this one thing. She  
and the other Eggs had been no more than twenty-two or twenty-three  
at the time, just on the edge of that mysterious age when they'd  
grown from hatchlings to adults.

They had gathered outside the palace on the grounds, and lit  
a great bonfire. Their human parents had said the celebration was  
for the birth of some human who'd died a long long time before, but  
to the Eggs, it had meant storytelling, which they all enjoyed. At  
one point, the clearest memory she had of that night, the Guardian  
had wrapped his arms around Princess Katharine from behind, and  
rested his head against hers comfortably. She'd smiled at him,  
more warmth radiating from her face than even the great blaze.  
Angela had turned her head to ask Ophelia a question about the  
story they'd just heard, when she'd seen the Magus, watching the  
other humans as they stood by the fire. He'd dropped his gaze  
quickly and gone back to telling his latest tale, but in that  
moment, she'd seen something she hadn't been able to identify until  
years later.

She looked out on the city lights again.

Somewhere, looking out on different city lights, Broadway was  
having the time of his life, being adored by hundreds of people  
she'd never meet. He'd asked her to be happy for him when they'd  
spoken on the phone earlier, and now she thought she understood  
what he'd meant. He was leaving her behind, not by boat, nor into  
someone else's embrace, but he was leaving her nonetheless. It was  
making him happy, more so than he had ever been with her. That had  
to be the reason he was staying away.

If she really loved him, she reasoned, she should be contented  
with the fact that he was among people he liked, and who liked him,  
and doing things he enjoyed. Love meant standing on the shore, or  
across the fire, and not saying a word as Broadway moved further  
and further away from her.

Her father would do that. He would stand and watch, even as  
his heart shattered inside his chest. He would be silent, and  
perhaps even glad. Her mother, on the other hand, would hunt him  
down and make souvenirs from his internal organs.

There were times her mother's view on life was rather appealing.

[Cue: "Memory"]

"Midnight.  
Where the hell is my boyfriend?  
Has the fool lost his memory?  
He has left me alone.  
In the castle,  
I cannot hear him talking to me,  
And my heart feels hard as stone.  
Broadway!  
Turn your face to the moonlight!  
Did you dream of me all day?  
I was dreaming of you.  
I remember the night we proved  
What happiness was.  
Tell me, Broadway, do you too?  
Father tells me you'd go off  
Even with a warning.  
Someone calls you,  
The big screen enthralls you,  
And soon it will be morning ...  
Daylight!  
Fox will see you at sunrise!  
She will watch stone close your eyes,  
And then cover your skin.  
When the dusk comes,  
Today will be a memory, too,  
And a new night will begin."

She felt eyes on the back of her neck and groaned. It had to be  
Brooklyn. He'd been very good lately about not pushing her, or  
following her around, or anything else. At the same time, she'd  
often caught him watching her then looking away as if nothing had  
happened. Suddenly she felt very guilty. Now that she understood,  
really understood, how he felt, she wanted to let him know it was  
okay.

She turned around.

Xanatos was watching her.

"What?!" she asked, her stomach telling her it was too late,  
Broadway was dead, she'd never see him again. "Is he ... "

He held up his hand. "There's been some trouble."

"I knew it!" She growled, feeling her eyes blaze. "I told him he'd  
get into trouble." The anger passed, and then she trembled. "Oh,  
please," she said, "tell me he's all right."

"I don't know," he said, and she saw the haunting in his eyes as he  
continued. "Jackal and Hyena attacked the studio. They took him."

She felt sick, but asked carefully, "And Fox?"

"She was alive the last time Hugo saw her. She knocked him out so  
she could go after them." He smirked, but it was a weak imitation of his  
smile. "Devoted wife, mother, one-woman vigilante squad. What a woman!"

She frowned. "She said that earlier."

"She was reading ahead in the script. This was around when _I_ was  
supposed to say it."

"Ah. So you and I are in the same boat, then. The love of  
your life and the love of mine are too far away for us to reach,  
and they're in danger, and we can't help them."

She felt ready to cry, but she wouldn't let herself. Not now,  
not yet. She would wait until she knew for certain.

"You do have a point." He began to sing:

"Burnt-out dreams  
Are in L.A.,  
I've seen her there before.  
The castle waits  
But she feels she's trapped here.  
I wish I could give her more!"

She looked out over the city again. Please be safe, my love,  
she willed him to hear. Xanatos placed his hand on her arm, and  
they continued together:

"Waiting!  
Wondering why she/he would leave me  
All alone in this city,  
While they're having their fun!  
If you'll wait here,  
I guess that I'll stay waiting here too,  
Until the new night has begun."

VVVVV  
Act 3: Scene 3

"Are you ready yet?" Hyena really hated cooling her heels,  
especially now that Broadway was airbourne and waiting,  
unconsciously, for their instructions. Given a choice, she'd  
rather just blow him up and get it over with. Heck, even that  
tapioca thing was looking preferable to waiting while Jackal  
fiddled with the camera making sure it was just right.

"Patience, dear sister. I'm almost done."

"Well hurry up." She paused a beat, and they said together:

"And don't call me Patience."

She paused again. "You know, I think I liked 'A Different World'  
better. When we told jokes, we had a laugh track to back us up."

"Canned humor. Just what we need."

She pulled out her printout of the latest version of the  
script. "And this would be ... ?"

"The deranged scribblings of someone who was forced to spend the  
past month calculating reaction rates. Hand me that screwdriver."

"Here. My point is, there is no humour in this thing. 'Don't call me  
Patience?' Please, that was barely funny when the joke went 'Don't call  
me Shirley.'"

"But I didn't call you Shirley." He snugged the screw and set  
the camera on the now-sturdy tripod. "We're ready."

A car drove up. She turned around, startled, until she remembered that  
this was the part in the script where Lamant came for his money. Sure  
enough, the twit stepped out from the car and walked over.

"So," he said, "what's the plan?"

Jackal opened his mouth. Hyena stopped him.

"Ooooh, no you don't! I read Snidely's chapter on that. If you tell him  
our plan, he'll use it against us."

"That's the hero who does that," he replied. "Lamant here is hardly the  
hero type. He's more the Ratboy-like betrayer, selling his soul for a nice  
profit, but honourable among fellow thieves."

"Thanks!" said Lamant brightly, before a look of puzzlement passed over  
his bland face.

She folded her arms. "I still don't think we ought to tell to tell him our plan."

"We get to sing ... "

"Okay!"

Jackal cleared his throat, and they began together:

[Cue: "Reproduction"]

"The parts of our intrigue are so constructed  
That very very soon now,  
Broadway will come into position.  
And then, Shanna or any other gossip-gathering creature  
Will call for an instant Inquisition!  
Yes, anything that gets his hands around a pistol's  
Right on the list.  
We'll try to make it crystal clear:  
The Quarrymen's insatiable hatred will turn this gig  
Into a circus of fanaticism.  
Now you see just how we'll give the gargoyles  
Such a stigma,  
And why this frenzied bigotry-filled gala  
Will start in truth is no enigma."

"We call this quest for annihilation a what, Sis?"

"A subconscious transvilification!"

"That's good. That's very good."

"I'm a little lost," said Lamant. "Where is he?"

"Northeast, 10 o'clock."

"Exposition! Exposition!  
Put your verbal skills to work!  
Exposition! Exposition!  
Before we off this jerk!  
Exposition!"

"I still don't think they get what our motive is."

"I got your motive right here."

"Matt, Y7, remember?"

"Oh, right." He shrugged and went on: "In an abstract way,  
the same phenomenon applies to inciting hate-based riots in any  
mob-type scenario. Now we are dealing with quick, irrational  
responses. Any questions?"

"Is it possible some single member of a group in a rage  
might look at our handiwork and see right through it?  
When a hot-blooded lefty in a do-gooder mood starts  
calling our bluff, how is Castaway gonna do it?  
How can we prove it to them?"

"We'll change their tune when show them our new movie:  
'Broadway Goes to Hollywood.'"

"That sounds kinda groovy."

She stopped, repeating under her breath, "'Groovy.' The only  
people who still say 'groovy' are those morons in the Seventies  
Preservation Society. I'm gonna hurt her for this."

"Shut up and sing."

"Exposition! Exposition!  
Give us all the details now!  
Exposition! Exposition!  
Like the reader can't figure it out!  
Exposition!  
Come on, Sis/Bro, let's tell 'em anything  
They don't still know!"

She reread the computer printout, and muttered again, "I think  
I'm going to throw up."

Jackal put on his signature blue Director's beret, and turned  
on the camera. He pulled the attached microphone away from it, and  
began speaking:

"Gargoyles are a menace to the entire human race. They are  
stronger, faster and bigger than us, and they breed like flies.  
Here is shocking footage of what just one lone gargoyle did to  
innocent bystanders at a pier near Los Angeles."

"Sir," she chimed in, "is it true that gargoyles steal human  
children from their very beds to devour them for dinner?"

"Yes it's true. And it's worse when they find lonely women  
out at night. I'll let you guess who comes out of that a winner!"

"That's horrible!"

"It gets worse, much worse."

"We have to eradicate these things!"

"Yeah!"

"Exposition! Exposition!  
They'll be frightened when we're done!  
Exposition! Exposition!  
And then we'll really have some fun!  
Exposition!"

"Let's roll the cameras and see just how far we can take this."

"Exposition! Exposition!  
Exposition! Exposition!  
Exposition! Exposition!  
Exposition!"  
"And action!"

Hyena fiddled with the remote-control, bringing Broadway out  
of his holding pattern above them. She took him through an  
experimental loop-the-loop, then headed him towards the pier.

"Are you getting this?" she asked her brother, as Lamant  
watched from behind.

"Every bit. Can you bring him back over for a quick beauty  
pass by the camera? Oh, perfect, thanks."

"No problem." She pointed him back at the pier, and waited  
until he was in range. There was a big red button on the remote  
that said "Press Me." She did.

A delightful charge shot out from Broadway's arm and lit up  
the night like a firecracker.

"Pretty," she couldn't help but say.

"Very nice," said Jackal. "Do it again, this time with feeling."

"You want feeling? I'll show you feeling." She pressed the button  
again, and then poked her brother in the arm. They started singing  
as they worked:

[Cue: "Light My Fire"]

"You know that it would be untrue,  
You know that I would be a liar,  
If I were to say to you,  
That we could send this guy much higher.  
Come on, Broadway, open fire.  
Come on, Broadway, open fire,  
Try to set this place on fire."

"You know they're gonna think it's true,  
When they see our famous flier.  
I can't wait to read the news  
Of Goliath on a funeral pyre  
Come on Broadway open fire!  
Come on Broadway open fire!  
Try to set this place on fire!"

"We've really got to see this through!  
But boy, he's packing some spare tire!  
Better start this new revue,  
'Cause blue boy isn't getting higher!  
Come on Broadway open fire!  
Come on Broadway open fire!  
Come on Broadway open fire!"

A grey streak flew across the sky and whammed into Broadway as  
he aimed his third shot.

"What in the ... " She couldn't tell what it was, only that  
it was large, and ruining their plan.

Jackal scanned it with his cybernetic eye. "It's Fox."

"I thought you said she wouldn't be here for another three  
minutes!"

"She's not supposed to be here yet!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Lamant.

"The script, stupid," she said, annoyed at him, at them, at  
everything. "Fox was supposed to arrive three minutes from now, so  
we started the explosions early."

Lamant ran to his car, but instead of getting in and driving  
away, he pulled out a crisp new copy of the script. "Here it is.  
In my copy, Fox arrives," he looked at his watch, "a minute ago.  
So she's right on schedule."

"What?" Hyena checked the buttons on the remote, and set them  
to overload. Maybe she could blow up Broadway and Fox, and that  
would improve her day considerably. Then she read her printout,  
going a little past what she'd read before. She turned the page,  
and sure enough, there was a little note in the text:

Gotcha. Next time, read the whole script. - MM:)

She threw the papers to the ground. "We've been had!"

"Then let's do some having of our own!"

"What?"

He shrugged. "I thought it sounded good."

"Whatever." She noticed Fox had managed to get the blaster  
off Broadway's arm before it blew. Figured. "You get Broadway.  
Fox is mine."

"Speaking of things we'll never see on Saturday morning  
cartoons ... " She glared at him. "I'm going, I'm going." He  
blasted directly towards Broadway. She aimed at Fox.

"You thought you'd sneak past the script, hmm?" asked her  
former leader.

"It was worth a try. Where do you buy your clothes, Fox?  
Al's Used Auto Parts?"

"Why not? That's where we got your last boyfriend."

The script changes, the rehearsals, the constant presence of  
her brother, the awful dialogue, and now the reference to the lost  
great love of her life were too much to bear. She attacked Fox  
without thought or strategy, wanting only to rend and rip and tear  
and hurt. Fox zipped out of her way.

"I can do that too," she said, as Hyena flailed for stability.  
She adjusted her rockets, and went after Fox again, even more  
angry. As Fox ducked, Hyena grabbed her arm and twisted her  
around, locking her from behind.

"Underneath that suit, you're still a weak, spoiled, little  
human girl. You should've upgraded with the rest of us when you  
had the chance."

"I _did_ upgrade," Fox replied, and ducked hard as she jabbed  
a very solid elbow into Hyena's all-too-human middle. The breath  
whooshed from her, and she was falling, unable to breathe, unable  
to correct. She hit the ground hard, taking Lamont down as she  
went. A moment later, she felt rather than heard the impact as  
another body joined theirs and knew it was Jackal rather than  
Broadway.

Weakly, she looked up to where Fox and Broadway were still  
aloft. Fox said, "I upgraded my friends." The last thing Hyena  
saw clearly was Broadway grinning like a moron.

What a night.

VVVVV  
Act 3: Scene 4

" ... What I'd really like to talk about is gargoyle-human  
relations."

"Yes!" said Shanna from the television, "tell us more about  
what our viewers can do to promote tolerance and understanding."

"I heard this interview went much smoother than the first,"  
said David, his arm settled very nicely around her waist. Gods  
only knew where Owen was. Probably ironing his socks.

"Are you kidding? All the networks keeps calling me. Everyone  
wants to see more gargoyles. And _he_ just wants to be home."

The clan, sans Broadway and Angela, remained staring at the  
screen. When the interview ended, Lexington and Brooklyn hooted  
and whistled. Hudson smiled broadly, pride on his face. Even  
Goliath looked pleased, although that was probably more due to  
Elisa's being there with her head against his arm. Everything was  
going to be a-okay as far as they were concerned.

"Back to life as normal," she muttered, then cooed as Alex  
made a squeal-gurgle. David's eyes stayed on her. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What nothing?"

"While you were gone, I was considering getting Pack Media  
Studios East back into producing, and I was curious as to whether  
you'd like to oversee the project. But with all this hype about  
gargoyles, I'm sure you'll be busy transporting Brooklyn or  
Lexington to L.A. next."

"Are you serious?" They'd discussed selling the entire thing to, well,  
FOX, and maybe starting from scratch with a company not linked  
to the Pack's disgrace.

"I think it would be a good venture, and certainly easier than  
starting all over again."

"I could do it," she mused aloud. "We'll have to find some  
quality productions, at least at the start. I can ask Skip and  
Marcy if they have anything in the works. That may not be quality  
but it'll sell. We'd have to renovate the place, too. The last  
time I went by, it'd been taken over by cats." She started  
considering accountants, underlings, production crews, and rattled  
off things they would need to restart production in the East Coast  
branch of the studio in more than just her using the name.

The gargoyles were busy in their own discussions, and ignored  
her completely. As she continued, she noticed an unusually happy  
expression grow on David's face while he watched her. She'd have  
to ask him why. Later, maybe. After she gave him his present.

VVVVV  
Act 3: Scene 5

Broadway scooted a little closer to Angela. "You're going to  
have to talk to me eventually. I told you I was sorry. Can't you  
forgive me so we can move on?"

"I was worried sick about you," she said. "You were in trouble,  
and I couldn't help you. I thought ... I thought you would die, and  
then part of me would die, too." Now that she was speaking, he  
could hear the tears, and ached knowing he'd put them there.

He whispered:

[Cue: "Angie"]

"Angie, Angie,  
When will that anger disappear?  
Angie, Angie,  
Where will we go now from here?"

"With you leaving me this way,  
What am I supposed to say?  
Can you even tell me why?"

"But Angie, Angie,  
I had to give it a try.

Angie, you're beautiful,  
And I don't want to say good-bye."

"Broadway, I still love you,  
But you weren't here to hear me cry."

"All the dreams we held so close,  
I couldn't let go up in smoke,  
But I needed more to have you near.  
Angie ... Angie ...  
Where will we go now from here?  
Oh Angie, don't you weep.  
I'll stay with you, my sweet,  
Until the night we both should die,  
But Angie, Angie,  
I don't want to say good-bye."

"Should I believe what you tell me,  
Or should I simply set you free?  
Can you stay here, satisfied?  
But Broadway, I still love you madly.  
Everywhere I look, I see your smile.  
There is no one that can come close to you.  
Can you stay with me a while?"

"Angie, Angie,  
Every night that I'm alive.  
Angie, Angie,  
Let's give this love just one more try."

He held her, and she wept against his shoulder. The sun would  
be rising soon, and he thought he should stay there with her,  
alone, until it warmed them both and cast them together into stone.

Therefore, she surprised him when she said, "We should go."

"Go where?"

"Downstairs. It's time for the big finale."

"Finale? Oh, that. Can't we let the others do it?"

"I wish." She took his hand. "Come on, if it's over soon, we  
can come back up here and snuggle." She winked.

He got to his feet quickly. "Let's go!"

They hurried down the stairs and into the television room just  
as the females in the room began:

[Cue: "The Muppet Show"]

"It's time to play the music!  
It's time to douse the lights!  
It's time to roll the credits  
On TGC tonight!"

The males (including Owen, who had evidently finished ironing his socks)  
responded:

"It's time to take off makeup!  
Put costumes out of sight!  
It's time to finish up here  
On TGC tonight!"

Hudson sang:

"When will we get our own eps?"

Brooklyn replied:

"I guess a week or so."

Elisa scowled at them, and said:

"At least you got a speaking part;  
I didn't even show."

This could be fun, Broadway thought. He took Angela's hand gently in his.

"I learned my lesson, Angie.  
I'll never leave you here.  
The moral of the story:  
At home your heart is near!"

She smiled sweetly.

"I'm glad you know that, Broadway,  
Now here's another clue:  
If you return to L.A.,  
I'm going to murder you."

Brooklyn and Lex snickered. Broadway flushed. From across  
the room, he heard Fox:

"My phone's been ringing for him,  
But he keeps saying no.  
He wanted to be famous, now  
He doesn't want to go!"

They gathered together in the center of the room, gargoyle and  
human and fay, joined hands, and sang together:

"It's time to get things finished,  
Yes time to get things finished,  
On the most sensational,  
Inspirational,  
Celebrational,  
Motivational,  
This is what we used to call our show!"

Silence. Fade to black.

"Cut!"

VVVVV  
Tag

Return from black.

"Good work, everyone. That's a keeper."

"Hooray," said Elisa. "Are we done now? I've got an audition  
this afternoon."

"Where?" asked Angela, stretching.

"NBC. They're casting for another 'Friends' ripoff."

"I'll drive you," said Fox. "I'm headed that way."

Xanatos checked his watch. "I'd better be going, too. Genie  
has a doctor's appointment, so I get to take care of Ben."

Goliath nodded to him. "When you see Marina, tell her I'll  
give her that tape back next week."

"Can do. Salli, before I forget, Mike says ... "

Brooklyn cleared his throat. "Guys," he said, sounding very little like  
himself, "we have a problem." He was staring down at a very familiar-  
looking book. "We're not done yet."

"What do you mean we're not done yet?" demanded Hudson, all  
hints of his burr gone without a trace.

"I mean, there's one more production number."

"Oh no there's not!" snapped Lexington. He grabbed the book  
from Brooklyn's hands. "See? 'This is what we used to call our  
show!' (Fade to black)."

"Turn the page."

Lex did. And said something that would never be heard on a  
Saturday morning cartoon. "I can deal with 'Little Mermaid.' I  
can deal with 'Cats.' I can even deal with that number from 'La  
Cage Aux Folles.' The Muppets were a little much, but ... I'm not  
doing this."

Goliath padded over, read the page, and rolled his eyes. "The  
show is over. Maybe if we just leave, she won't notice."

The curtain swayed. Jackal, Hyena, and Lamant came through  
roughly to fall on the stage. Hugo and Shanna walked on stage a  
moment later, looking somewhat confused.

Jackal looked up at them, propped his chin on his fist, and  
muttered, "She'll notice." At the same time, the castle echoed  
ominously with the sound of slamming doors.

"What was that?" someone asked helpfully.

"That," said Owen, "was the sound of all the doors in the  
building shutting and locking themselves. We're trapped."  
Brooklyn meanwhile had mysteriously disappeared.

Xanatos clapped his hands together. "All right, people. Let's get  
into positions. Laura, you're here beside me. Salli, Keith, you take  
the other end. Brigitte and Bill should be in the center. The rest  
of you, fill in between."

Hyena balled her fist and put it at her waist. "Who died and  
made you the director?"

"Roddenberry. Now go stand by Matt."

"Jon," said Fox, shaking her head a little, "you hate the  
production numbers as much as we do. Why are you helping??"

"Easy. Every time we've complained about the script, she's  
changed it for the worse. If we don't do this number, she'll  
keep us here until we do the final scene from 'A Chorus Line.'  
Frankly, I'd rather stand still than try to do the can-can. You?"

After that, there were no more protests.

The lights dimmed, leaving the single spotlight focused on  
Broadway and Angela. Holding hands, they began to sing:

[Cue: "Finale from Les Miz"]

"Come with us, where plots will never bind you!  
'Egon Pax' at last, at last behind you!  
Oberon, look down on us in mercy,  
Forgive us our 'Olympians' and show us 'Mirror's' glory!  
Take my hand, lead me to syndication!  
Take my love, for love brings higher ratings!  
And remember, the truth that once was spoken:  
To love another species is to risk TV-14!"

The light gradually lifted, to shine on the rest as they walked forward on the stage.

"Do you hear the writers sing?  
It is the song of angry fen.  
It is the music of a fandom  
That is going to rise again!  
When the aching in your back  
Matches the aching in your thumbs,  
You've got a story there to post  
When tomorrow comes.  
We will live again in freedom  
If just in the written word.  
We will walk in Wyvern's hallways,  
Fly, and fight, and raise the sword,  
A special edition of AvMists will be our reward!  
Will you watch our fair cartoon?  
Who will be strong and stand with me?  
Somewhere beyond the "Hunter's Moon,"  
Is there a decent Season Three?  
Do you hear the writers sing?  
Say, do you hear the clacking keys?  
It is the future of the show that we all shall see!  
We all shall see!"  
Fade to black.

Really.

VVVVV  
Credits

Lexington ... Thom Adcox Hernandez  
Hudson ... Ed Asner  
Angela ... Brigitte Bako  
Brooklyn, Owen ... Jeff Glen Bennett  
Lamant ... Scott Bullock  
Hugo ... Jim Cummings  
Goliath ... Keith David  
Broadway ... Bill Fagerbakke  
Xanatos ... Jonathan Frakes  
Jackal ... Matt Frewer  
Elisa ... Salli Richardson  
Fox ... Laura San Giacomo  
Hyena ... Cree Summer  
Shanna Coyle ... April Winchell

"Part of Your World" from "The Little Mermaid," Music by Alan  
Menken, original lyrics by Howard Ashman  
"Maybe" from "Annie," Music by Charles Strouse, original lyrics by  
Martin Charnin  
"Music of the Night" and "All I Ask of You" from "The Phantom of  
the Opera," Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber, original Lyrics by  
Charles Hart  
"Show Business" from "Annie Get Your Gun," Music and original  
lyrics by Irving Berlin  
"Impossible Dream" from "Man of La Mancha," Music by Mitch Leigh,  
original lyrics by Joe Darion, new lyrics by Batya Levin  
"You're Nothing Without Me," from "City of Angels," Music by Cy  
Coleman, original lyrics by David Zippel  
"Leaving on a Jet Plane," by John Denver  
"He Plays the Violin," from "1776," Music and original lyrics by  
Sherman Edwards  
"On Broadway," by Neil Young  
"A Little More Mascara" from "La Cage Aux Folles," Music and  
original lyrics by Jerry Herman  
"Memory" from "Cats," Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber, original lyrics  
by ALW and T.S. Eliot  
"Reproduction" from "Grease 2," Music and original lyrics by Louis  
St. Louis  
"Light My Fire" by The Doors  
"Angie" by The Rolling Stones  
"The Muppet Show Theme" by Jim Henson (probably)  
"Finale" from "Les Miserables," Music by Calude-Michel Schonberg,  
original lyrics by Herbert Kretzmer

Great joy and gratitude go to:  
Cary Bates, who hopefully will not sue me;  
Batya, who looked at the original  
draft, gushed, then said, "Okay, this, this and this need to be  
changed";  
Nicole, who helped me stalk the original lyrics to songs so  
I could kill them;  
Tom, who lent me the soundtrack to "City of Angels";  
Christine Morgan, who read the first draft and wanted it for  
AvMists anyway;  
Tara, who made me read _How Much for Just the Planet?_ by  
John M. Ford, the literary parent of this fanfic.


End file.
